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Ides of March, Part I
category:Classic OtherSpace Logs Command Center The brains of the massive Concordance Station colony ship are found in this brightly-lit chamber atop the highest point of the upper curve of the orb. Steps lead down from a narrow observation platform into the command center proper. Beeps and hushed information are perpetually conveyed by the dozens of command staff present, protected by dozens of uniformed and armed Defense Force officers. Directly forward lay three curved, two-story tall viewscreens, placed beside each other to form a panoramic display. Several smaller screens, those showing some esoteric information that bears significance to something, branch off from the information landscape. Embedded consoles with a plethora of flashing lights and dials curve around the lower section of the command center, some directly underneath the raised observation portion. These are complemented by free-standing terminals arranged in neatly rectangular form on the main floor. Cottington paces along the front arc of the command center, in front of the viewscreens, hands clasped behind his back as he listens to a report from a technician: "The superstructure has been reinforced in the known weak zones, and security has been increased in the spots indicated in the blueprints provided by the team on the Athena. But make no mistake, sir. We can sustain an hour or so with the Spindrive before we get to Nocturn - after that, we really must not try such a feat again." Jasra comes through the command center door all auburn curls, black tranchcoat tails flaring behind her and high excitement. She stops formally before the doorway, "Jasra Beaulieu, reporting for duty, sir." she says, smiling and doing a quick smart salute, gloved fingertips to forehead. Cottington nods to the technician, then looks toward Jasra. He smiles faintly, then nods and gestures to the command console. "Lay in a course for Nocturn and stand by. Engage no engines until I give the order." "Aye, sir!" Jasra replies and makes her way towards the console, "Are we powered up? Is engineering ready?" she asks as she takes the pilot seat and glances over the displays. Jasra mans the Command Console - Sanctuary. "All should be in readiness," the president replies, and then he returns his attention to the technician. "No sign of a bomb or any other device?" The technician shakes his head, saying, "Not so far, sir." Jasra concentrates on the console, gloved fingers moving quickly from here to there as she does as Cottington ordered, "Course laid in, sir." Cottington nods. "ETA at best speed?" Jasra answers in a still bridge formal way, "Best speed is 3000. ETA 1 hour 22 minutes and 12 seconds. If we're going to use the jump drive, which doesn't seem to be powered up right now. Jasra leans forward and flips a couple of switches, "There.. now they're charged." She glances at Cottington, leaning back in the seat, gloved hands resting lovingly on the console edge, "Ready when you are, sir." Cottington nods, turning to gaze out the viewscreen as the technician moves off to attend to other duties. The president clasps his hands behind his back. "You come to us highly recommended, Ms. Bealieu. Your reputation, however, has much more to do with smaller, more maneuverable vessels. How qualified are you with a ship this large?" Jasra turns in the seat to face Cottington a bit more. She smiles at the man, "Little late to be asking that isn't it? I've never flown anything as big as Sanctuary." she confesses, gloved fingers stroking the console absently and lovingly, "But I've flown large transports." Leaning towards him sightly she says, "Is there anything out there as big as Sanctuary?" "Not that I've ever seen," the president replies, chuckling softly. "Before we begin acceleration, please notify all decks to secure for departure. In 20 minutes, we will begin accelerating. Understood?" Jasra grins, "Aye sir." she answers and turns back to the console in readiness. Jasra glances towards Cottington, "Ready when you are, sir." Cottington nods. "Soon, Ms. Beaulieu." He lifts his chin, watching the stars beyond. Jasra grins, "Aye, sir." and gives the displays another glance, though one gloved fingertip taps restlessly against the console's edge as the woman tires to wait patiently. A voice over the loudspeaker announces: "Attention, all personnel! Secure for acceleration." Cottington glances toward Jasra. Without a word, he merely nods. Jasra grins and straightens her back. With a graceful lean in, she starts the huge ship moving, "Accelerating, sir. Moving out." You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up. The deck shifts and rumbles alarmingly as the vessel begins the slow process of accelerating to spindrive velocity. "Notify me when we have reached full velocity," the president replies. His eyebrow arches, and then he asks, "Any comm traffic?" "Aye, sir." Jasra says lifting a gloved finger to her ear where sits a commlink bud, She adds, "I'm getting a mayday. Sivad ship Venture. Seems they're having a problem." Cottington furrows his brow. "Are they on sensors?" Jasra shakes her head, "No sir." "Ask the nature of their emergency," the president says. Jasra nods and makes the request.Jasra chuckles lightly and glances at Cottington, "He's out of gas. Must be a space cadet." Jasra speaks into her commlink. Cottington sighs and shakes his head. "Inform them we have secured for acceleration and are already under way. But see if they can tell us how far they are from our location." Jasra nods and starts speaking softly. Cottington is standing near the front of the command center, watching as Jasra deals with a stranded ship on comms. Jasra turns towards Cottington, "You know, I saw Faux and Grayhorse on the flight deck." She sits at the command console. Touching a finger to the bud in her ear she repeats the communication, "Range 343557, sir." then adds, "Maybe they could break off for a rescue?" Latimer removes his hat and leaves it in a convenient place before walking in Cottington's general direction, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, "Good afternoon, Mister President." As Jasra speaks, he goes quiet, and remains so. "If we hadn't already secured for acceleration, that would be an option, Ms. Beaulieu," the president says, shaking his head and sighing. "To conduct a rescue, we must slow to full stop and dispatch the vessel." Jasra nods and glances back at the console displays, "We are at max acceleration, sir." she says, "I'll let the Venture know." Cottington frowns, nodding. "We can ill afford to decelerate and endure the stresses of acceleration *again*. The technicians have made it clear. If we stop now, we stop for good, most likely. Put out a general hail for others to come to their aid." Latimer clasps his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth. He mutters something about the absolute duty of rescue in deep space, sotto voce. Jasra nods, "Aye, sir. I've instructed him to do so." Her attention is now back on the displays, though she seems to be listening. Cottington glances toward Latimer. "Julius, they ran out of fuel. They aren't *dying*. Would you have us strand *Sanctuary* - ten thousand people - right here in the middle of Nall space just to help someone fill up on fuel? I recognize our obligation, but we have other concerns to consider." Latimer shrugs, his voice soft, "Yes, Mister Cottington, but my understanding is that if we can hear that, the Nall can as well. But be that as it may, he should have..." a mirthless chuckle from the Sivadian, "Stopped for gas along the way." Cottington returns his attention to the viewscreen. "The Nall will not trouble us. They have problems enough of their own." Harsh, juddering jolts rattle loose dishes and other objects as the colony vessel endures the stress of acceleration. Jasra turns towards Cottington, "Ventures mayday has been responded to, sir." then quickly turns back to check the displays on the console as the ship shudders, "Hrm. Hold together, girl." she whipsers and gives the console a light pat. "Engage spindrive," the president says. Jasra grins happily, leaning forward to do as Cottington orders, "Aye, sir, engaging spindrive." she says formally. Latimer gets a firm base, his feet sliding a bit wider apart, as if that will help. He glances at the viewscreen and nods. The ship hums loudly as it enters into hyperspace. The rasping groans of metallic supports straining deep with Sanctuary's superstructure can be heard throughout the vessel. Cottington takes a kerchief from his pocket and dabs at the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Jasra decides it's time to engage her harness and she slips her arms into the pilot chairs straps. While she snaps the latch on the harness her gaze never leaves the displays, another whisper to the ship, "Come on baby. Be good for momma." Sparks explode from a science console about six feet from Jasra. The air becomes thick with the acrid smell of scorched electronics. Technicians activate fire safety systems, extinguishing the blaze, but one of them shouts: "We've got fires on several decks, and a breach on the perimeter of the Summer Dome. But we hear the breach is being sealed right now." The president nods, then looks toward Jasra. "Maintain course and speed." Latimer jumps as the console explodes, "Jesus!" he mutters, pulling out his own hankerchief. He staggers a few steps, then grabs a handhold and stands straight. Jasra flinches, bring up an arm to protect herself from the sparks. Glacing at the president she says, "Sir, there's fires on the decks. Are you sure?" Cottington nods. "Quite sure." He returns his attention to the viewscreen as the fire is extinguished. Jasra gives a light shrug and turns back to the console. She reseats the ear bud and speaks softly. "ETA to Nocturn?" the president inquires. Jasra replies formally, though slightly distracted by concern for the red lights flashing on the console, "One hour, 10 minutes and 1 second, sir." Lights flicker overhead and a vent cover rattles loose, clattering to the floor. "Only an hour?" the president replies, coughing softly and then wiping his forehead with the kerchief as he eyes the fallen vent cover. Jasra finches again, glance to the lights, then the falling cover, "Crap." she murmurs and looks at Cottington, frowning slightly, "Sir are you alright?" Cottington tucks the kerchief in his pocket. He nods. "Splendid. I'll be even better once we have safely arrived at Nocturn." Daneel walks in speaking gruffy into a communit headset. "I don't care if you are on break! There are falling objects of deck 4. Get them secured before someone gets pegged. Daneel out." Cottington stands near the viewscreen. The science console is a smoldering ruin covered with chemical extinguishing powder. A vent cover has fallen to the floor not far from Jasra, who works the nav controls. Technicians keep watch on the glowing red damage telltales that keep flashing. Latimer watches from one of the less distressed parts of the command center. Latimer wipes his sweaty palms with the his own hankerchief before tucking it messily into his breast pocket, half flapping out. Taking a step forward, he says in his usual cultured tones, only a bit strained, "Could be a long hour..." Jasra is strapped in the pilot chair at the command console, one gloved hand clutching the edge of the console, the other making an adjustment to a display. She's amazingly calm about the state of affairs in the command center, though her auburn curls are a bit damp around her temples. Daneel maneuvers his way to the engineering status displays, and looks over the shoulder of the Journeyman operating the console. "Whats the status of the generators?" "Not exploding yet," the journeyman deadpans. "ETA 53 minues and 55 seconds, sir." Jasra reports. Lifting a gloved finger to a comm bud in her ear, she chuckles softly, shaking her head a little. In spite of the possible dangers around her, she finds humor in the space communications. Latimer shakes his head for a moment then removes his commlink unit from his pocket and begins to fiddle with it, "Damn, I'm switching to an internal channel. This Venture is starting to get on my nerves." He takes a sidestep at a shiver in the deck. Daneel says, "Might as well join ours. Gonna get the best systems reports off of it." Cottington nods to Latimer. "Indeed." He looks toward Daneel. "Mr. Olivaw, welcome to the fray." Jasra glances over her shoulder and smiles at Daneel, "Bout time, Mr. Olivaw. Wouldn't want you to miss the fun." After the light joke she turns back to the console, paying close attention to checking the displays again and again. Daneel looks over to Cottington. "Thanks...I think." He looks back over to the systems display. "I am getting an odd feeling of deja-vu." He nods back to Jasra. "Aye." He sighs. Jasra lifts an eyebrow, glancing over at Daneel, her face blanching slightly, "Deja-vu? I'm not liking the sound of that..." she frowns, murmuring as she looks back at the console, "Nall, rifts, weird stuff, what next..." Latimer returns his commlink to his pocket, and nods, "Right. Not much need for a channel in my department." He smiles weakly and looks at the viewscreen. "We only have to make it safely this one final time," the president says. "After that, we should be set for life. Consider the opportunities provided by the multiverse nexus." Cottington plucks the kerchief from his pocket again, wiping at the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "ETA, Ms. Beaulieu?" Jasra straightens her back, runs gloved fingers through her curls as if cooling off her neck, then lets them fall on her shoulders, "Right." she says simply, then grabs the edge of the console, glancing over the displays. "ETA 38 minutes 30 seconds, sir." she answers, slipping back into formalities. Latimer looks around nervously at the creaking, "I hope they built to last back in the day, Mister Cottington." Daneel raises an eyebrow at the groaning, and thumbs his communit. "Oh, we built it to last," the president says, smiling faintly. "But Sanctuary has endured far more than she was ever meant to suffer. Trans-universal crossings, emergency accelerations..." His voice trails off. Daneel nods. after turning his attention back from his communit. "It didn't help that we had to replace the entire drive system to make the trip, either." The deck lurches as Sanctuary rolls hard to port due to an overcompensating maneuvering thruster. Cottington just barely manages to keep his feet, grabbing a railing and stumbling. Latimer staggers sideways and bangs his forearm hard against a console. He curses fluently, and rubs the sore spot, "That's going to leave a bruise." Daneel grabs the chair next him just in time to avoid falling to the floor. "What the hell? Simon, what RCS package was that?" "Held together by shipping wire and ducttape." Jasra murmurs, gripping the console a little harder, but held in place by the pilot chair's harness she rides out the roll, "Orders?" she asks, hands going back to the controls and eyes on the displays. Cottington cuts his gaze toward Jasra. "If I wanted to change speed or course, I would tell you. Maintain!" He growls, then looks over at Daneel. "Get that thruster stabilized!" "RCS package 112," Simon replies. Daneel raises his eyebrow at Cottington, but doesn't say anything out loud. He activates his communit. "That wasn't my doing, sir." Jasra responds, fighting to get control of the ship. Jasra barely keeps the ship on a stable course as she struggles with the wailing thruster. Jasra continues to struggle with the controls, barely keeping on course, "Come on sweety." she murmurs to the ship. "ETA 25 minutes 22 seconds, Mr. President." she says louder. Daneel listens to the reply of his communit, and nods. "Alright Simon. They found the malf in the controller. Team 1 has the new one installed - restart the package." Cottington nods. "Ms. Beaulieu, announce over general hailing that we are suffering severe internal stresses and mechanical malfunctions, and that we may require evacuation of the vessel." He stares out the viewscreen, dabbing at his sweaty forehead with the kerchief. "If it comes to that." The colony vessel becomes stabilized as the maneuvering thruster is repaired. Jasra nods, "Aye, sir." and makes an ajustment to her comlink. "Done," Simon replies, smiling broadly at the engineer. Latimer's eyes widen at Cottington's words, but he shakes his had and grabs a nearby railing, grimacing from the still painful smart to his arm. Daneel says, "My vessel, the Courage, is on the flight deck. She could probably handle quite a few passegers if need be." Jasra frowns slightly, "Sir, our ETA is now 18 minutes, how is anyone going to be able to reach us to help with an evac of Sanct?" she asks quietly. "There's always Galactix," Cottington says. Jasra listens a moment to her commlink earbud, "I think Gal is going to be busy with the 'Venture'." She sighs, "Oh geeze." The main lights flicker and then go out. Amber auxiliary lights go on. Daneel says, "We have enough ships on board to evacuate everyone. That isn't a problem. Its if we have to stop...Damn it! Simon, tell me the generators haven't blown up yet." "The circuits for the primary lighting systems are fried, Mr. Olivaw, that's all," Simon replies. "Generators are holding, but stressed to capacity." The journeyman continues his study of the telltales, and then his brow furrows. "Uh-oh." Jasra frowns as the lights dim, "Oh crap." she murmurs, leaning forward to read the diplays, "Tell him to keep the gages working." Daneel says, "I don't like uh-ohs. What've we got?" "It's what we don't got now," Simon says. He looks up at the engineer. "Our weapon grid circuitry is out too. The main access to repair this particular node is on the upper hemisphere surface of Sanctuary, sir. We can't do a thing to the grid until we've stopped." "ETA 8 minutes, sir." Jasra announces. Cottington nods, then looks out the viewscreen. "Not much longer." Daneel says, "Remind me to fire a nail-gun at a picture of the guy who designed that node. Alright. Pull the power that was connected to that grid off the reactor. Lets use this little problem to help our reactor out."" Jasra runs her gloved fingers along the console as she whispers, "Keep together, just a bit longer, baby." then checks the displays again. Simon nods, then presses a sequence of buttons. "The grid's now fully offline, power has been shunted." His brow knits and he taps a gauge. "That's a weird spike." He leans closer, and then the console sparks and explodes. In a flash of smoke and shrieking metal, Simon is killed instantly, his face torn apart and scorched, his body hurled back onto the deck. Daneel jumps back as the console explodes. Thumbing emergency band, he calls out the emergency. Daneel speaks into his commlink. Jasra turns to Daneel and asks, "If we put the shields up, would that help the ship hold together better?" She brings up an arm to protect her face in response to the explosion and thankfully doesn't see the man lose his face. Cottington pales as he looks toward the fallen journeyman. He leans on the railing and shakes his head sadly. Jasra says, "9 seconds" The ship reverberates as it drops out of hyperspace. Daneel checks for a pulse, and finds none. He grimaces, and grabs a fire extinguisher and begins to put out the flames. Sanctuary drops out of faster-than-light speed near Nocturn to find: A large group of ships sit, just out of orbit of the small, rocky planet. In the center is a wicked looking ship, large and crescent shaped. The middle is bulkier, and the launch bays on either side are open. Arranged around the ship are others, some wedge shaped and other, larger ones that defy simple description. They are arrayed in three, claw like protrusions from the large ship. In the space between, Nall starfighters, arranged in groups of three, fly patrol patterns. Jasra drops Sanctuary out of hyperspace and checks the displays, "We're here." she says soberly, "And so are a bunch of ships." Cottington swings his attention toward the viewscreen. "Oh...my God..." Daneel takes one look at the viewscreen and switches to command circuts on his comm. "Jasra, call general quarters." Loudspeaker All hands, general quarters! Repeat, ALL HANDS, General Quarters! Latimer stammers as he looks a the view screen, "For what we are about to recieve..." he murmers, "I believe a general distress call might be in the offing, sir... Like... anything that mounts guns?" The tortured, twisted hulk of a Tsetse-class scout ship rolls slowly past Sanctuary. The careful observer might notice the letters GETTYSB, but the rest is lost in the scorch of plasma burns and the savage shredding of the hull. Smaller chunks of metallic debris drift in tandem with the larger wreckage. Amidst the flotsam, one can occasionally make out the rigid forms of lifeless humanoids, perhaps six or seven of them all told, wearing atmosphere suits that have long since lost power. "Holy Heck." Jasra says, compiling with Daneel's orders, then frowns, "There's a lot of junk out here, sir. Can't make out what it is though. Could we get some more power to the sensors? Daneel says, "Damn. Sir, what are your plans?" Cottington just stares out the viewscreen in disbelief. "Plans? We can't run. We can't fight. We're outnumbered and beaten, Daneel." He glances toward Jasra. "Full stop. Notify the Nall that we intend no harm." Jasra turns to Cottington, her face a bit paler than usual, lifting one hand to the scar that starts at her neck, "The Nall... ok, but I don't think they'll care much." she adds, then activates her commlink. Daneel says, "Keep me in the loop via comm sir. I've got to get those people below prepared." Daneel turns and heads out, at a fairly quick pace. Cottington paces away from the viewscreen, approaching the nav console as medical personnel arrive to cart off the corpse of Simon the engineer. "Julius, I see little choice but to surrender." Jasra murmurs something about pissing off Nalls, then says, "We're about 4 hours out form Nocturn. Hate to think we'd come all this way to jump in the Nall's lap." Again her gloved fingertips toy with the visible end of the scar at her neck. Jasra sighs, "They want our unconditional surrender, sir." Cottington blinks, then looks toward Jasra. "Unconditional? I at least want assurances that our passengers will be unharmed." Jasra nods and speaks into her commlink. As Jasra tries to stall the Nall her face twists into interesting contortions. Latimer says, "I would tend to agree, sir, but I don't know what kind of treatment we can expect." He frowns deeply, "Or we could abandon ship in anything with a jump drive." Cottington takes out his kerchief and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He looks out the viewscreen at the swarming Nall vessels. "Try to escape, and they'll just pick us off. I don't like our odds, Julius." Daneel says, "Sir, I know that we have a lot of structural damage, but if we seal off the flight deck, we could ram their main vessel... Give us time to get those weapons online. The power to weapons runs through the core of the ship." A guard enters the command center from outside, "Sir," he addresses Cottington, "We have a Vollistan here to see you. You want him in here?" Cottington frowns at Daneel. "No! Dammit, we don't have time. They want an answer in five minutes. We'd be attacking them in slow motion. If we delay, they kill us outright." He looks at the guard, then grunts. "Mr. Olivaw, show the Vollistan in, please." Daneel nods, and opens the door for the vollistan. Latimer grunts, obviously not liking the odds either, "I'd rather be dead that a Nall prisoner, I think. Although the two seem synonymous." Cottington shakes his head, then looks to Jasra. "Send to the Nall flagship..." His voice chokes for a moment, then he says, "We surrender. Without conditions." Jasra sighs and prepares to send the message, "Here I go again. I will forever be cursed with Nalls and Dangles." Cottington stands near the nav console, a foot or so from Jasra, his head hanging low as he waits. Two forms of smoke. One, the hazy aura surrounding the light-singer Volari as he enters, the other whisping up from the gold-filtered cigarette in hand. He stands atop the observation platform for a dull moment, then clanks down the stairwell into the command center. He looks toward Cottington, "I hope you realize that you're a damned fool, Oswald, because I don't want to waste the breath to tell you it myself." He smirks, looking out the massive viewscreen toward the ships. "That said, I may be able to help you." He takes a drag from the cigarette and exhales very slowly, watching the Nalliese starfighters. Daneel stands next to a broken and charred workstation, his face blank. Cottington glares at the Light Singer. "If that's all you have to say, get off my bridge while you still can." He then walks over to the intercom and thumbs the actuator. LOUDSPEAKER: All hands, this is Oswald Cottington. We have surrendered unconditionally to the Nall Clawed Fist Fleet. They have vowed to kill any who resist. Disarm and avoid fighting. "This isn't Nall space," Volari says, standing behind Jasra's chair. "They've made it Nall space." Jasra waves her hand in front of her face as some cigarette smoke drifts her way, "Nasty habit." she murmurs, even in the face of surrendering to become Nall prisoners, "This is a really fine mess we're in." Daneel points to the armada on screen. "As far as I'm concerned, they have done so successfully." Cottington shakes his head. "It *is* Nall space," he mutters sadly. "It always has been." "Well... That depends on your point of view, Oswald." Latimer offers, addressing the president by his christian name for the first time in memory. He frowns and leans against the console behind him, "I suppose there's no hope of us jumping out of here." "That doesn't matter, child," Volari intones toward Daneel. As an aside, he raises an eyebrow, "The command center have a bar? If so, I'll have a dry martini." Crossing toward Cottington, the inquisitor leans against a railing. "And why do you think they've prepared for the arrival, Oswald?" "Daneel," the president growls. "Get this man off the bridge. Now. Call security to help, if you need it." Jasra sighs and looks at the Vollistan, "This is not the way I wanted my life to end, Mr Cottington." she says, glancing towards the man who brought them here. Volari holds up his hand, his eyes remaining firm on Cottington. "Easy Daneel," he says, without looking back. "Easy. Grand Inquisitor Volari, formerly of the 347th Parallax Talon." The stoicism drops from his face to the thickness of grimness. "And I'm not eager to be reinlisted. If you want my expertise, Oswald, I'm willing to offer it." "Not exactly what I had in mind, either," Cottington concedes, his eyes drifting toward Jasra. "I thought they had abandoned this territory. They showed no interest when we came for the Kamir..." His voice trails off. "Oh, what was I thinking? Of course..." He ignores the Light Singer for now. "Nocturn was a nightmare world. A planet of demons, feared by the Nall. We eliminated the demons. We made it safe. And Minerva discovered the nexus. They opened the door for...conquest." He glances back over at Latimer. "Julius, what have I done!?" Daneel nods silently to the president, and steps forward, stopping a moment when addressed. "What can you do to help us with that fleet out there? Jasra seems to listen to something, then says, "Galactic is setting course for our coords, sir." Cottington widens his eyes and shakes his head at Jasra. "No! Warn him off! He can do nothing but get us and himself destroyed!" Jasra says, "They have saved the winer." she frowns a the president, "But if he can help we should let him." Latimer sighs, "I believe we would call it a cock up on Sivad, but for the record, none of us could have seen this coming. Obviously the Nall have decided not to peacefully coexist anymore." He reaches under his jacket and hefts his stun pistol, "Well, this isn't going to help." Reholstering it, he laughs blackly. A swarm of assault transports launch from the Trakral and thrust toward the helpless colony vessel, angling for landing on the flight deck as other Nall vessels hold position, locking weapons on Sanctuary. "There's nothing any one of us can do, Daneel," Volari says exasperatedly as he turns back toward the man. "Reject the offer of surrender, you're dead, you're gone. It's the end. Surrender, and they put you in chains, the use you as tools, you're gone. It's the end." He folds his arms over his chest, "And here is where it begins." Daneel looks over to the president. "I, for one, would rather die free than let those bastards make me a slave." Cottington glances toward Daneel and shakes his head, his face looking gaunt and haunted. "I can't tell you what to do anymore, Daneel. If you choose to fight, that's your right. But you fight for yourself, knowing that it may likely get you - and others, innocents - killed." Jasra turns from the console to look at Volari, "So what are you really suggesting we do? Or are you just here to talk big before we die?" LOUDSPEAKER: The Nall assault transports have landed! ALL personnel disarm and show no resistance! "We aren't going to die," Volari abstracts calmly. "The Nall race is a paradox - brilliant military minds that are incapable of linking any other type of thought process. We find our advantage and we utilize it to the fullest extent. Simple." Simple. Latimer sighs and removes the pistol again. He removes the power pack and drops the weapon. "Well... What are our options then. Can we... Jump through the nexus?" Jasra frowns, then recovers her pda from an inside pocket of her trenchcoat, "What a time to get mail." Cottington shakes his head. "We talk to the Nall Vox, Julius. Hear the terms." "Yes," Volari nods toward Cottington. "We'll listen for once." He takes several steps toward the viewscreen and draws the cloak that hangs over his shoulders tightly around him. The phosphorescent light surrounding the Vollistan slowly fades. Carefully, slender fingers pull the cloak's cowl over Volari's face, shadowing the ashen complexion. Jasra sighs and puts away her pda, then unlatches the flight harness that keeps her in the pilot chair, though she stays seated, "Fine kettle of scales you've gotten us into, Pres." she glances to the man, "The jump drive is charged." Latimer frowns, kicking the gun away, its metallic frame clattering on the deckplates. He glances over at Cottington, "I believe we just surrendered with no terms, sir. This is war, you know..." "The Nall make no terms," Volari intones quietly. Jasra says simply, "What happens if we jump now?" "If we jump now," the president says, looking toward Jasra, "you kill 10,000 people. We can't endure it." He then turns and walks quietly past Latimer. "There are always terms. If they wanted us dead, they would have killed us already. They need us for something. They must." Jasra sighs and taps a gloved forefingertip on the console. "Ok. Just hope they don't remember me." she adds, brushing back a few wayward curls. "I would suggest then, Oswald," Volari speaks from beneath the cowl, "That you contact the Mystics of Val Shohob for an answer." His eyes dart up to a muted holoviewer broadcasting reports from INN. "But that is no longer an option, either."